


Hotwired Hearts

by sedirktive (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: DJ!Dirk, M/M, Smut, Two Shot, random tangent about green
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sedirktive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a guy standing at the bar, and dirk wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotwired Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> dont know how to dj at all. i made assumptions and took creative liberty.
> 
> me: ugghughh this fic is killing me how do i describe kissing.  
> friend: MOUTH WRESTLING

It’s funny how your entire world can change in a single moment, with the single turn of the head, with a single, electrifying sideways glance.

Yeah.

That’s what this guy was.

Electrifying.

He sat, static, with eyes that flickered and flashed about the room- illuminating every distant corner of Dirk’s being like a pair of green strobe lights. Holy shit. His eyes were really green.

We’re not talking about leaf green or grass green or even emerald green. Nope. This guy had eyes that shone like pond scum. In that romantic, albeit non-poetic, and green way.

Dirk flinched when they gazes crossed paths. Internally, of course. Because externally would have been just plain uncool.

It was likely that the guy didn’t even realize that they had looked at each other, courtesy of a classy pair of black shades and blinding neon lights pulsating across the floor littered with the writhing forms of people grinding someone else’s ass to dust (and a few dancers).

Licking his lips, Dirk immediately rerouted his train of thought, derailing it from whether or not his little bro was having safe sex at his boyfriend’s house (which, in hindsight, was a slightly creepy thing to think about). The question was not how he was going to bring this man home, but whether or not tall, dark, and green-eyes would have enough stamina to hold out until morning.

As the last pulses of the stereo faded out, Dirk turned on the microphone, letting the bass of his voice overlay a generic pop melody as his fingers mixed and spliced wildly with a fervor that anyone else might have called reckless.

“Hey there, boys and girls. How’re y’all doing tonight?” The crowd screamed and cheered. Of course they did. They loved him. “Hope you’re all planning to have a long, hard round of sex tonight with someone you’d like to know a little better,” -drunken hooting and laughter- “Because I know that I’ve got my eye on someone out there.” Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled. “So yeah. My last song of the night is a little private shout-out to the green-eyed babe at the bar.”

Out of the corner of his subconscious, Dirk saw several bimbos adjust their tops or send him a flirtatious finger waggle, but he didn’t care. He kept his eyes locked on barstool-boy, swallowing the key when the stranger reached a shocked understanding of who exactly Dirk was targeting.

The music took over from there. The beats fell like rain, pounding the ground as per Dirk’s cue, but leaving the fire of passion that he had so well concocted to smolder. Melodies and harmonies and lyrical effigies that stood in place of feeling wove in and out of each other, like the hands of two lovers clenched tight in breathless exhilaration. Dirk could feel the spark of sin in his fingertips, inciting the addition of a few more impromptu button mashes and disk whirls as his eyes slipped shut.

And if he was feeling it, the masses definitely were. They seemed to become one body, whose hearts echoed in unison, whose lips moved in unison, and whose muscles clenched and unclenched in unison.

When the dying chords finally fell away, the club whole club was silent for a moment and the air charged with something that not even Dirk could put his finger on. Then, the tense body of dancers seemed to exhale in a single whooping, adoring, shrieking applause mingled with shouts of “i love you!!” and “hot DAMN.”

Wiping the thin layer of sweat from his brow, Dirk tried to find mystery bachelor numero uno. Fuck. Where the hell did he go?

Dirk, disappointed and slightly annoyed, stepped down from the DJ’s stand. He gave the next mixer a half-hearted fist bump (only half because the other half had walked out on him mid-song) as he ducked out into the staff lounge to avoid the wave of people that would have otherwise engulfed him.

Looks as though he would be going home alone after all. Sighing, Dirk fanned out his hat before grabbing his keys out of his personal locker and shoving them into the tight pocket of his jeans.

The night air met him with a full on shiver as he closed the back door on the music behind him.

“So, um, is that sort of performance a habit of yours, Mr. DJ?”

Again, Dirk flinched internally. And even though, with a flush of self-confidence, he knew exactly who it was, he put in the effort to double check.

The green-eyed wonder was trying to look cool, leaning one shoulder against the brick wall in a pose out of a terribly cliche movie that should have looked more relaxed than he was making it seem. His hair was dark and nicely styled. His mouth kept twitching undoubtedly due to a nervous tick that involved licking at the back of his teeth. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short or small in stature by any means. Skip the commentary on the eyes. 

Dirk felt almost charmed (which was a first for him) by the awkwardness of it all. “Not usually. It was more of a one-time deal.”

That earned an eyebrow raise and lift off from the wall. He had nice eyebrows too. “And am I going to be a one-time deal?” There was a lilt to his voice, as though the words rolled from his tongue. Accent? Probably.

“That depends.” Dirk took a step forward.

“On?” They were chest to chest. Face to face. So very nearly touching. The faint, alcohol-scented breath on his face was slowly drawing him in.

“You got a name?”

“Jake.”

“Jake. Cool. Dirk.”

“Cool Dirk? Or just Dirk?”

Instead of answering, Dirk whirled him around and pushed him to the wall with his lips, feeling the startled flex of some nicely-toned muscle structure. And even though Jake was the one who had gotten the wind knocked out of him, Dirk found himself thoroughly winded. Jake kissed with the skill of a kleptomaniac- he stole Dirk’s breath away.

The kiss had to be short lived. After all, why serve the pièce de résistance before teaching the guest a little more french? “Hey,” Dirk whispered against Jake’s lips. “Isn’t it a bit chilly out here?”

Jake played along, walking his fingers along the protruding edge of Dirk’s spine. “Think you can warm me up, Mr. Cool?”

Fuck. Tonight was going to be good. “Let there be heat. At my place.”


End file.
